Speaking of wheels, when I was a kid, some friends and I happened upon a tire. There were a lot of houses being built in the expanding suburbs of central Connecticut where I lived, and we were (at least in my neighborhood) what they call today “free range kids.” Between school and dinner or during summer breaks, we were pretty much on our own to amuse ourselves, and so—as you might expect—we did a lot of dumb things out of sight of any meaningful adult supervision … as long as we were home for dinner before the 6:30 p.m. siren on the volunteer fire department station across from my house went off.
So one day, as we were riding our bikes around the
construction going on that was expanding our neighborhood as new houses sprung
up, we found this tire., Not just any tire. A really big tire. Like the kind
you’d find on a payloader. It was off its rim just lying there and it was not
new. For whatever reason, we decided to dislodge from the dirt it was lying in
and stand it up on end, then we began to roll it around. It took all of us to
accomplish this.
I don’t know who went first, but one of us decided to get
into the tire while the rest of us rolled it around. Cool, huh? Yeah. It gets
better. I don’t know who went first, but soon we were pushing tire around with
one of us lying in the tire flopping around like clothes in a dryer. Then we
pushed the tire and let go until the thing stopped and fell on its side,
disgorging a dizzy but laughing young boy in the dirt. Of course, all of us
took turns, and wouldn’t you know, when it was my turn, the thing started going
downhill, picking up speed and flopping me around like a rag doll until it hit
a tree. My pals ran up, and pulled my dazed and dizzy self out, cackling like a
mad man.
It was at that moment that one of our moms drove up in her
station wagon, gave us that look that mom’s give, and ordered us to get our
bikes where she marched us home like prisoners in a chain gang while she drove
slowly behind us.
This fond memory of childhood craziness came to me as I
learned about Catherine of Alexandria. A martyr of the faith, and a favorite of
medieval Christians, because her story is even more wild than the tales of many
the early church’s saints … and involves a wheel.
I have come across two different accounts of her martyrdom.
In both versions, Catherine was the daughter of an Egyptian government official
of the Roman Empire and a young scholar who converted to Christianity as a
teenager in the late third and early fourth century.
But the stories I’ve read take two different paths from
here.
In one version of her legend, she caught the eye of the
local governor of the Roman Empire. He courted her but also demanded that she
renounce her Christian faith before marrying, which, of course, she refused to
do.
In the other version, she is hauled before the Roman Emperor
himself because she openly renounced the violence and cruelty of the official
persecution of early Christians.
In both versions, she is hauled before an official gathering
where fifty of the best philosophers are brought in to debate her, but she won
every single argument, converting many of them to Christianity, including the
wife of the official or emperor, and many of the soldiers who guarded her. Unable to admit defeat, the emperor (or
official) did what frustrated tyrants do and condemned her to be tortured to
death on a spiked wheel, but when she touched the wheel, it shattered. (Which
is why her saintly symbol is a wagon wheel and why, I suppose, my memory of
riding inside a big tire came to mind.) Finally, she was beheaded in the
traditional way.
Of course, the story doesn’t end there. Legend has it that
when Catherine was beheaded, milk flowed from her veins flowed not blood, then
angels carried her body to Mount Sinai, where St. Catherine's Monastery, with
is vast library of ancient manuscripts including the oldest copies of the
Christian scriptures, is now located. Catherine is patron of young girls, preachers,
philosophers, librarians, and those who work with wheels like potters, spinners,
and wheelwrights.
On our church’s calendar, Catherine is traditionally celebrated
on November 25th, alongside two other women who were martyred at
about the same time, Barbara of Nicomedia, and Margaret of Antioch. There’s no
evidence that any of them knew each other, but they were all clearly cut from
the same cloth, determined, articulate, and wise women who defied the
authorities and even the cultures of their day as they lived and communicated
the Good News of Jesus.
And that is what ties these three women together: In Catherine
of Alexandria, we meet a girl who argues her beliefs to fifty high powered men
and changes their minds. Margaret of
Antioch was a young woman who, after experiencing the childhood trauma of her
mother’s death in childbirth, finds her own path, different from her family’s,
and in doing so is put on trial and ultimately killed for making her own way. And
Barbara of Nicomedia, who was a teenager with a controlling and abusive father,
but whose education and brilliant mind led her to deeply examine the world
around her and deduce that there was one true God. None of these women are
remembered for being meek, but as women who, as the saying goes, nevertheless persisted.
One of my tutors in Biblical studies, the late Rev. Dr. Minka Sprague, once said something in a seminar that I've never forgotten. She quipped that “an apocryphal story is one that is not true, but ought to be.” The stories of Catherine and these other martyred women are at once metaphorical yet true. They are meant to teach us something important.
And as I look at Catherines story
through the lens of my time as a clinical chaplain in hospitals and in
emergency services, it makes me think about how we process trauma both individually and as a community. Historical
or not, these tales recast trauma into
something worth remembering and even feel inspired by, even something to pass on to one’s
children.
Because of the confluence of this special feast and All
Saints Day last week, we get to hear Jesus teaching in the Beatitudes twice. I guess the Spirit is telling us to pay attention.
The sermon on the mount is the heart of Jesus’ teaching.
Here, Jesus names those who are blessed in the kingdom of heaven. In Jesus’s
time, to be blessed was closely connected with holiness. A blessed person was a
holy person, a person set apart.
We tend to think of being blessed as a feel-good type of
emotion, but that is not what the Greek word Matthew uses means. What if,
instead, we heard the passage like this?
“Holy are the poor in spirit.”
“Holy are those who mourn.”
“Holy are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.”
“Holy are the merciful.”
“Holy are the peacemakers.”
“Holy are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.”
Jesus does not say, “Blessed (or holy) are the perfect.” He
does not say, “Blessed (or holy) are those who never fail.” He certainly does
not say “Blessed (or holy) are the ones in charge!”
Instead, he points toward people who are deeply engaged with
the realities of human life: people who know what it means to grieve; people
who long for justice; people who practice mercy; people who make peace; people
who are willing to suffer for what is right. This is a way of living that
is in the world, but not of the world.
Holiness gets involved. Holiness is shown in mercy and
justice and peacemaking. Holiness is willing to enter into the places where
human life is most difficult.
So, as we contemplate Catherine, we are also reminded of other
stories like it: the Diary of Anne Frank comes to mind as one example of the
heroism that comes out of suffering and persecution. The recent 25th
anniversary of 9/11 are filled with the stories of people like Fr. Mychal Judge
and the many other stories of heroism, fortitude, compassion and survival. I am
also mindful of modern-day martyrs such as Matthew Shepard, Alex Petti, and
Renee Good, whose stories transcend their historical events and whose deaths call
us to at once lament and pray for the courage to do better. Who show us, as the
Apostle Paul says todays epistle to the Romans, that nothing, not death nor
life, nor principalities or powers of anything in creation can separate us from
the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
So, while we know rationally
that instruments of torture, like the one used on Catherine, do not
spontaneously shatter, we are encountering a much larger truth. Catherine, and
all those other saints, are faithful people who face their trauma with courage,
grace, and faith; who are remembered in their communities even during times of
incredible stress. This is how Catherine and all those others teach and
encourage us in our walk with Christ.
We workaday Christians follow a crucified savior, upon whom
dropped the entire weight of an empire. And while they were smug in their seats
of power, they fail every single time. We are here because of Jesus’
resurrection and the subsequent witness of Catherine and thousands and thousands
of other saints, most known only to God and the people they touched. The risen
Christ demonstrates the futility and emptiness of empire, kings, rulers, and
mobs. And over and over again, Catherine, her companions, and all those other
saints, witness to the power God to guide and strength us to do the right thing
at the right time in the right way. Their examples (and their prayers!) guide us
in our daily living and through our tough choices, call us to join with them in
communicating the love of God in Christ every single day.
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This is the Bulletin for Worship for St. Catherine of Alexandria: November 8, 2026 at St. Catherine of Alexandria, Temple Terrace, Florida.
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